The announcement came sooner than anyone expected.By morning, Father's assistant was already making calls, arranging fittings, contacting florists and caterers. The air in the house shifted — heavy with perfume, gossip, and forced celebration.
"Carl Sterling has agreed," Father told me over breakfast, his tone almost triumphant. "You'll be married before the season ends."
I didn't answer. My fingers trembled around the cup of tea that had long gone cold.
He went on as if I weren't there. "This is a blessing, Aria. His family is powerful. The papers will write of legacy, not scandal. The world will forget what happened to Edward."
Forget.As if Edward's death — his murder — were a stain that could be polished away with diamonds.
Damon stood by the window, silent as always, but I could feel the storm building in him. He didn't look at me once during that conversation, and that hurt worse than Father's indifference.
When I rose to leave the table, Father added, "Carl will be arriving at noon. He wants to take you to lunch. You'll behave accordingly."
Behave.As if I were something trained, not born.
Carl arrived precisely on time. He always did.
He wore a navy suit this time, perfectly fitted, his cufflinks gleaming with the Sterling crest. His smile was easy — too easy. When he took my hand, his thumb brushed along the inside of my wrist, lingering just long enough to make my skin crawl.
"You look beautiful, Aria," he said smoothly. "I'm honored you're agreeing to this."
Agreeing.The word nearly made me laugh.
Damon was standing near the staircase, his jaw set like stone. His eyes followed Carl's hand until it dropped away.
Carl noticed — and smiled.
He leaned closer to me. "Jealousy makes men foolish, don't you think?"
I didn't respond. I couldn't.Because Damon's eyes had gone dark, dangerous, and I knew that look — the one he wore before doing something he couldn't undo.
By evening, the house buzzed with preparations.Swatches of ivory fabric and crystal centerpieces covered the dining table. My dressmaker fussed around me with pins and silks while Lina held the mirror steady. Every stitch felt like a countdown to doom.
Carl had left hours ago, promising to return with his mother for a "family dinner."Father seemed more alive than he had been in months.
But Damon was nowhere to be seen.
When I finally found him, it was in the stables — the one place no one ever went anymore. He was standing beside one of the black cars, the hood open, his hands working fast, mechanical.
"What are you doing?" I whispered, my heart pounding as I approached.
He didn't answer at first. Then, without looking at me, he said, "He'll use this car tonight. I can make sure he never arrives."
My stomach twisted. "Damon, no."
"He won't stop until he has you," he said, voice sharp, trembling at the edges. "I can't stand by and watch him touch you, marry you, own you like you're—"
"I'm not his," I cut in, stepping closer, grabbing his wrist. His pulse beat wild beneath my fingers. "And if you do this, you'll destroy everything. My father will know. They'll hang you before dawn."
He turned to me then, eyes blazing. "You think I care about me? You think I could live watching him walk you down an aisle meant for us?"
"Damon," I said, my voice cracking. "Please."
He froze, breathing hard. For a long moment, neither of us spoke. Then slowly, I reached for his hand — the same one holding the small vial he'd been ready to use. I pried it from his grip.
"Not like this," I whispered. "We'll find another way."
He laughed softly — bitter, broken. "You think there is one?"
"I don't know," I said honestly, my throat tight. "But there has to be. There has to."
I looked at him then — really looked. The man who had risked everything for me, killed for me once, and would do it again without hesitation. The man who loved me enough to destroy himself.
"Promise me," I whispered. "You won't do anything reckless."
His jaw clenched. "I can't promise that."
"Then promise me this — you'll let me try first."
Our eyes met, and something in him cracked — not defeat, but surrender. A tired kind of surrender that meant he'd listen to me, at least for now.
"Fine," he said finally, his voice low. "But if he hurts you again, I won't stop."
I nodded, though fear coiled deep in my chest. Because I knew he meant it.
That night, I sat in my room, surrounded by lace and letters of congratulations I hadn't opened. Every gift that arrived from the Sterlings felt like a nail sealing a coffin.
Lina came in quietly, setting a small velvet box on my table. "From Mr. Sterling," she said softly.
Carl's name was embossed in gold on the card inside.
I opened it — a necklace, delicate and shining, with a single sapphire pendant.The note beneath it read:
To my future wife.May this remind you of what's coming — and who it's for.
I stared at it until my vision blurred. Then I closed the box and shoved it away.
A few minutes later, there was a knock at my door.I didn't need to ask who it was.
Damon stepped in quietly, his expression unreadable. "Your father's downstairs. He wants you to meet Carl's mother."
I nodded, rising slowly.He caught my hand before I reached the door.
"We'll find a way out," he said, repeating my own words back to me — softer, steadier. "Even if we have to burn everything down to do it."
For the first time in days, I almost believed him.